Authors: Amy Lane

Christmas with Danny Fit (10 page)

BOOK: Christmas with Danny Fit

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Amy Lane

Christmas With Danny Fit [83]

The commitment is all you can hope for, you know? People fall off the wagon all the time, but if they’ve got a goal in mind, then I have faith that they can do it. Who do you want me to make this out to?”

Kit’s smile suddenly lost all hints of self-consciousness.

“Could you make it out to my boyfriend Jesse?” He gave Danny an inscription, and Danny blinked and then laughed.

“I’m sure there’s a story there somewhere,” he said with an honest grin.

Kit nodded. “Yeah—but right now I have to go give Jesse the book so it ends happy.” He met Danny’s extended hand and shook it firmly, a meeting of equals. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise. Thanks for letting me into your life.”

His hand was warm and firm, and his tanned fingers were hard-boned and soft-skinned with moisturizer, and Kit was proud to shake hands with the man.

But that was all.

When he got home, Jesse was sitting outside. He’d been raking leaves (Kit’s yard didn’t have a tree, but the yard next door had a fruitless mulberry, and the yellow leaves were everywhere) and the lawn was now clear of them, and there were big full black bags in Kit’s green-waste can by the garage.

Jesse was wearing his hat and his gloves in the chilly December light, and he was drinking what Kit assumed was coffee, but when he got closer and could smell it, he could see that Jesse had made hot chocolate and poured coffee in it.

He sat down next to his lover, not minding that the concrete of the porch was cold as hell, and took the mug from him for a Amy Lane

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drink. Without a word, he handed Jesse the bag in his hand.

“What’s this?” Jesse asked, his voice not as hostile as his expression had been when Kit had pulled up.

“Presents,” Kit said between blissful sips of the chocolate coffee.

The sulky turn of Jesse’s mouth relaxed a little more. “You already gave me presents. It’s not even Christmas yet.”

Kit grinned at him and tweaked the brim of the forest-green skater’s beanie that Jesse was wearing. It matched the gloves.

Green may not have been an average color, but it looked so nice with Jesse’s coloring, and Kit was besotted enough to see it on him.

“You like?”

Jesse’s smile was sweet and very, very soft. “I like that you’re back on time.”

“Good! Now open your presents!”

Jesse looked at him dubiously, then reached into the bag and grimaced. “The book? Seriously? You got me the Danny Fit book?”

Kit grinned. “Now read the inscription.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed, and then he laughed a little, as though he was embarrassed. “
Jesse, Kit says you have nothing to
worry about. Danny’
.” Jesse kept giggling and aimed those good-natured, narrowed eyes at Kit. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said there was a story in there, and I said yeah, but I had to get home and give you the book so it would end happy.” Kit was Amy Lane

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practically dancing as he sat, he was so pleased with himself—and so nervous, too, because the book wasn’t the only thing in the bag.

Jesse leaned forward finally and kissed him on the mouth, and Kit opened for the kiss, and they scooted closer to each other to share some body heat on the chilly-assed porch. Kit pulled back and nodded to the bag. “There’s more in there! Look!”

The next item Jesse pulled out made him laugh helplessly. “A membership card to my gym?”

Kit nodded, still bouncing as he sat. “Uh-huh. We can go together now. You know, because….” He flushed and looked away.

“Because, well, we’ll be together, so I can’t look that bad, right?”

Jesse kissed him again and pulled back with dancing eyes.

“Are you saying I make you look good?”

Kit’s grin was blinding. “Yup! Absolutely. Best workout buddy ever!”

Jesse chortled some more and then looked surprised when Kit said, “But there’s more!” Jesse dug in the bag for a minute, because this next item was smaller, and when he pulled it out, he frowned.

“It’s a key.”

Kit nodded, absolutely sober now. “It’s your key.”

“My key?” There could be a lot of ambiguity here, Kit knew, but he’d meant it that way.

“It’s a promise,” Kit said earnestly. “And proof, you know?”

“A promise of what?” Jesse searched Kit’s face, his eyes very bright, and Kit tried very hard not to screw this up.

“A promise that whenever you’re willing to take me up on the Amy Lane

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offer, it will be there.” Jesse sucked in a sharp breath, and Kit kept talking. “You see? The key is yours. You can come by anytime. It’s like the place is yours. But better, because if, you know, one day, you want to come in and bring your stuff, you can do that too. But it’s a promise that it’s open to you, you know?”

Jesse looked at the key in his palm like he was afraid to touch it. “Jesus, Kit. What if I fuck this up?”

Kit remembered a tired man giving some good advice. “People fall off from good intentions all the time, Jesse. What matters right now is the commitment. This is my commitment, you know? You and me, we’re going to be real. All we have to do is commit that it’s real. It’s something. If we have that as a goal, we should be good, you think?”

Jesse’s hand started shaking, and Kit’s came up to cover it, closing his fingers on the key. He let out a big sigh of relief when Jesse’s hand clenched, and he cupped his other hand over it, like it was something precious.

“We’re good,” Jesse said through a rough throat. He slipped the key in his pocket and wiped the still shaking hand over his cheeks, and then took the coffee from Kit and set it down on the porch.

Then he threw himself into Kit’s arms and held on so tight, Kit thought maybe this moment would freeze in time, like their asses were about to freeze to the concrete porch. They held each other as long as they could, and then a moment longer, and when they backed off, Jesse was all dimples and bright, bright eyes.

“You dork! How are you supposed to impress me on Christmas if you give me all of this today?”

Kit grinned back and stood up, giving Jesse a hand up, too, Amy Lane

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and snagging the coffee mug to go inside. “Are you kidding? We’re spending Christmas in bed!”

Jesse practically choked on his own snicker. “You think you’ve got that much stamina?”

Kit opened the door and pulled Jesse through. Their home echoed with their footsteps and their laughter, and with the two kittens who came running with bells on their collars to greet them.

“Of course I do! I’ve been working out!”

Jesse was still chortling as the door closed behind them.

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AMY LANE is a mother of four and a compulsive knitter who writes because she can’t silence the voices in her head. She adores cats, knitting socks, and hawt menz, and she dislikes moths, cat boxes, and knuckle-headed macspazzmatrons. She is rarely found cooking, cleaning, or doing domestic chores, but she has been known to knit up an emergency hat/blanket/pair of socks for any occasion whatsoever or sometimes for no reason at all. She writes in the shower, while commuting, while taxiing children to soccer/dance/ karate/oh my! and has learned from necessity to type like the wind. She lives in a spider-infested, crumbling house in a shoddy suburb and counts on her beloved Mate, Mack, to keep her tethered to reality—which he does while keeping her cell phone charged as a bonus. She’s been married for twenty-plus years and still believes in Twu Wuv, with a capital Twu and a capital Wuv, and she doesn’t see any reason at all for that to change.

Visit Amy’s web site at http://www.greenshill.com. You can e-mail her at [email protected].